


A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [17]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of choking, Panic, good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Eska has a horrible, horrible day.
Relationships: Eska & Willy Franks
Series: Tortured Tales [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520
Kudos: 1





	A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It started with shadows. Dancing around the edges of his sight, drifting through doors.

His legs grew heavier and heavier until they were completely paralyzed. His arms covered in frenzied ants, he felt a strange torpor take over his langley body with a long shiver.

It was cold. It was cold and the air smelled of stagnant waters. A hum accompanied by slow clicking heels was coming closer.

His tongue was coated with a dark and bitter taste. It tasted like darkness.

Not again.

Not this again.

He arched his back as his body fell into a ball on the floor (it felt dense, it felt heavy, it felt like liquid fire swaying back and forth) and his skeletal arms encased his head in a protective lock, a meager defense to his doomed skull. They always managed to get around without him moving, with him flailing, there was no escape.

He could feel the dark coat him, its sticky, viscous, and vicious texture trickling down on him and from him to freeze him solid in its chilling grasp, pushing against his muscles to flatten them completely against the already cracking bones until it would have found an opening to replace every little bit of his insides with black ichor and sludge.

The humming was growing stronger; the small heels made a deafening clatter in the empty hallway.

It was coming closer, closer, closer, and it wanted to hurt him.

It wanted to rip him to shreds to achieve whatever twisted idea it had of pristine perfection.

It wanted to hurt him, and it hummed sweetly to its cruel heart's content.

The bitter taste solidified from feeling to matter and fused inside his jaws. Like molten lava climbing out of a closed off volcano it pressed against the sharp and dirty rows of his teeth until it forced them open, spilling out of his mouth, thick ebony malice dripping off of his chin and filling his throat and nostrils, grappling to his skin in the same painful way that ice does.

The shadows reached out to comb his greasy air, thin fingers running through it without any offering of warmth nor solace. They taunted his attempts at defending himself from their ghostly touch, the way his body shook loudly to try and scare them away; with their long and cold grasp they mocked his fear, his helplessness, the tears streaming his cheeks.

The voice seeped in his ears like a hail shower. Cold hands wrapped around his neck as if to tear it from his body completely, suffocating him. Its fetid reek was that of death and old blood.

It smiled against his skin, trapping him between the floor, the ink, itself --

\-- and the lavender.

He inhaled shakily, and the shades began fleeing from his vision.

A gentle pressure surrounded him with caution.

“You're with me. You're safe.”

Eska leaned into Willy's gentle embrace and ashening curls. His senses basked in his friend’s reality.

He was with him.

He was safe.


End file.
